


Sex and Drugs and a Brief Discussion of a Rock 'n' Roll Subgenre

by Geist



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Accidental Voyeurism, Alcohol, Boys Kissing, Breast Fucking, Cunnilingus, Doggy Style, Drugs, Eavesdropping, F/F, F/M, Hangover, Large Breasts, MILFs, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Older Woman/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Party, Pearl Necklace, Perfume, Puppy Play, Seduction, Sex, Sexual Content, Sitting Sex, Spanking, Spin the Bottle, Standing Sex, Stockings, Tribadism, Voyeurism, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geist/pseuds/Geist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose throws a party that's at least part way off the hook, chain and wall. The booze is flowing, Jade's turned her green thumb towards recreational pursuits, Dave has a terrible secret and upstairs, a cougar's on the prowl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex and Drugs and a Brief Discussion of a Rock 'n' Roll Subgenre

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Секс, Наркотики и Краткое Обсуждение Поджанра Рок-н-Ролла (Sex and Drugs and a Brief Discussion of a Rock 'n' Roll Subgenre by Geist)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045684) by [Mr_Scapegrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Scapegrace/pseuds/Mr_Scapegrace)



Rose looked around the living room. Everything seemed to be in order. She'd pulled the sofas and armchairs together for a more intimate atmosphere and the coffee table was laden with snacks. Her mother had been given several bottles of alcohol in varying strengths and flavours, bundled upstairs and told in no uncertain terms to not come down. Having a drunken Roxy crash her little gathering would be more embarrassment than she could bear. Her mom seemed reasonably happy with the arrangement. She certainly liked the idea of being given free drinks.

Rose checked herself in the mirror. Her party dress was simple enough: just a strappy little black number a friend of hers had slapped together, but it was elegant enough and, importantly, it matched her signature black lipstick. She didn't need to impress her friends, but it never hurt to look nice. She brushed a stray strand of hair back into place and settled down to wait.

She didn't have to wait long. Soon after she'd sat down and started slowly munching a nacho, the doorbell rang. Rose smiled, stood up and strolled over to the door. She opened it with her most welcoming hostess' face.

"Rose!"

"Rose!"

"'Sup Lalonde?"

Rose returned her friends' greetings in turn. "John. Jade. 'Sup, Strider? Welcome to my home. Please do come in."

She stood aside and held the door for them. John, Jade and Dave trooped in, marvelling at the opulence of Rose's house. Even Jade's magnificent island science-castle couldn't really compare to the tasteful luxury on show. 

"We brought booze," Dave said. He and John hefted a pair of bulging carriers each, filled with six packs and wine bottles.

"I brought weed!" Jade announced. She was wearing a hoodie over her dress, and she rootled around in the front pocket to extract a crumpled but remarkably large baggy of greeny-brown nugs. "I grew it myself."

Rose raised her eyebrows. "How... thoughtful. Please bring it inside before someone sees." She hurriedly shut the door as soon as Jade was through.

"Chill out, sis," Dave said. "Who's gonna bust you?"

"The police?"

"Sure, when you're as loaded as you are?"

"Have I ever said I'm rich?"

The sweep of Dave's arm encompassed the grand foyer. His bag followed it and almost beaned John. "I don't think you need to. Nice pad, by the way."

"Yeah, it's great!" said Jade. She caught sight of the sitting area and the snack table. "Hey, are those nachos?" Without waiting for an answer she scurried over, threw herself into an armchair, grabbed a chip and used it to take a huge scoop out of the salsa bowl.

"As I was about to say," Rose said with a pointed glance at Jade, "shall we sit down?"

"Thorry," Jade mumbled, spraying crumbs everywhere. "I was hungry."

Rose and her two more civilised guests trooped over to the seats and joined Jade. John and Dave put their bags down with a clunk. Jade reached over and grabbed a can out of one. She snapped it open and took a sip.

"So how have you been, Rose?" John asked.

"Oh, the same as ever." She took a cracker and spread soft cheese on it. "Dave, could I trouble you for some of your wine? I have some glasses here."

"We're drinking this early?" Dave asked, handing her a bottle of red. 

She unscrewed it and poured out a glass, then took a sip and said, "Yes, well-oh, this is good stuff. I didn't know you knew wine."

"I know everything."

"Hmm. As I was saying, it is a party."

"Woo, party!" Jade said from behind her can.

"Quite. To answer you, John, I'm actually quite pleased with myself lately. I managed to sell one of my stories to a magazine."

"Wow!" said John. "That's great! How much'd you get?"

"Err, well when I say sold, I mean donated. And when I say magazine, I mean fanzine. It seems, thanks to a certain someone, that wizards are expected to be eleven years old when we first meet them. We then follow them through their school days.” She took a sip of wine and scowled. “I remember when wizards were all-powerful and possessed of eldritch knowledge. Still, I suppose being published anywhere is a start."

"It is."

"How about you?"

"Dad opened a bakery," he said with a hint of pride. "I'm working there. It's fun. I don't hate his baking like I used to. Helps that we don't use...you know, HER stuff."

Dave opened a beer and drank to John's sentiment. The others joined in, save for the drinkless John, who ate a nacho instead, then cracked open a tin of his own to wash it down.

"And you, Dave?" Rose asked. "What are you up to?"

Dave seemed curiously reluctant to answer. He took a deep swig of his drink before saying "I'm in a band.”

"You never told me that," John said.

"Me neither," said Rose.

Jade snickered. “That's because he's in a rap metal band."

Rose giggled. "Rap metal. Really? You?"

"It's ironic," Dave said, glaring at Jade from behind his shades.

"Ironic? I thought you were called 'Bay of Tokin'," she said, all wide-eyed innocence. Rose looked at the ceiling and bit her lip. John stuck his fist in his mouth and shook with repressed laughter. 

When he trusted himself to not crack up he ungagged himself and said, "but a lot of people used to listen to stuff like that. You must have a lot of nostalgia appeal."

"Yeah, I guess. We've got a lot of fans." Jade coughed a cough that sounded an awful lot like 'hipsters!'

"I see a lot of guys who look like scouts at our gigs. Pretty sure we're gonna get signed soon."

"Well your fans well be pleased," Rose said, after she took a calming sip of wine. "They can say they liked you before you went mainstream."

"Hey, there's worse things than being rich and in a super-famous ironic rap metal band that people take seriously for some reason."

"I'll drink to that," John said, and did.

"Anyway, what are you doing, Harley?" Dave asked. "We ain't heard nothin' from you for weeks."

"That's because I've been busy selling my island."

"What!" the other three said together.

"Yup. The deal actually went through a couple of days ago."

"Congratulations, Jade," John said. "Who bought it?"

"Some genetics company. They said something about building a zoo."

"Why would a genetics company want to build a zoo?"

"I'unno."

"But Jade," said Rose, "Where are you going to live?"

"Anywhere I want! You know how Dave said you were loaded? I'm even more loadeder."

"She's loaded on something," Dave said. "'Nother beer, Harley?"

They talked some more, and ate, and toasted each others' successes with beer and wine, until eventually John's kidney's started doing what kidneys traditionally do to beer and wine.

"I've gotta used the bathroom," he said. "Rose?"

She looked up from her conversation with Jade. "Use the one upstairs. All the ones down here are stopped up for some reason. Up the stairs, down the hall and it's the fourth door on the left."

John nodded and got up. "Don't break the seal, bro," Dave said.

"Too late," he replied. "It's gonna break anyway if I wait." 

He wandered over to the stairs and ascended them. The noise of the party faded away as he reached the landing and walked down the hall. He found the bathroom, went inside and did what needed to be done.

In her room, Rose's mother heard the tread of John's feet and smiled to herself. She'd known that Rose's guests would be forced to use the upstairs toilet, because the day previously she'd gone round all the ones on the ground floor and into each of them had flushed a blob of a kind of epoxy that rapidly expanded on contact with water. It'd cost a fortune in plumbers fees to get them fixed, but Mrs. Lalonde considered the consequences of her actions to be well worth the cost. To have Rose's handsome friends alone for a moment, yes, that was very much worth it.

She waited for about half a minute, then quietly slipped out of her room to keep an eye on the hallway. She heard running water from the bathroom. A few seconds later, the door creaked open. John came out shaking his hands dry and looking the other way, and as he turned to shut the door she swiftly closed the distance between them and said, "Hello, John dear."

"Ahh! Oh, Mrs. Lalonde. You surprised me."

"Don't mind me, darling. I'm just getting ready for bed."

"You're not joining us tonight?"

"An old lady like me? I couldn't possibly keep up with you young things. Besides, I think Rosie would prefer that I didn't." She thought of the (mostly) untouched bottles of drink in her night stand that Rose had donated.

John tried gallantry, and avoided voicing the opinion that she could probably drink any one of them under the table. "You're not old. You don't look anything near your age." That was true enough. She had a body that most women in their late thirties would have killed for, with the figure of a particularly sexy hourglass and – not to put too fine a point on it – enormous tits. She was also, he gradually realised, wearing a very immodest nightdress that expertly displayed her assets. It was almost, but not quite translucent, but that didn't matter because it was so tight that he could see nearly every contour on her body, and short enough that it was less a dress and more a long top.

"What a sweet thing to say," she said. "But I'm certainly not as young as I used to be. Take my stockings, for example." She gestured downwards, and John noticed her lacy, floral-patterned hose. Black straps ran from their cuffs up her thighs and under her dress, where they were presumably attached to a garter belt. "I can't bend over to take them off like I once could. Actually -" she flung an arm around John's shoulder and propelled him down the hall towards her room. "-perhaps you can help me. They're very delicate, you see, and it's hard to take them off carefully enough. The catches are tricky too. Would you be a dear and give me a hand?"

"Umm..." John said, but before he could muster any serious objections they were at the door to Mrs. Lalonde's room. She opened it, pushed him into the semi-darkness, followed him in and clicked it shut behind her. She brushed past him, trailing a sort of sweet, spicy scent and sat down on her bed with her legs slightly parted and a reassuring look on her face.

"Don't be shy," she said. "Come and take a seat." John went over and sat next to her. "There. Comfy?"

He nodded. "So I just undo these straps, right?"

"That's right."

John swallowed nervously and traced his fingers up the strap closest to him. He slid his hand beneath the hem of her dress and found the catch.

"You'll need to see what you're doing," she said, and hiked up her dress so that the catch came into view, along with more of her smooth thighs. John fumbled with the clip until it sprang open, letting the strap fall away and the stocking sag to one side. He reached over her leg and did the same to the other. The stocking came loose completely, and Mrs. Lalonde lifted up her leg to let him slide it off. It caught on her foot, so he got off the bed and crouched down to pull it the rest of the way. Once it was free, he straightened up, folded the stocking and laid it neatly on the bed. He sat down on her other side and repeated the process.

John didn't quite know how it happened. Maybe Mrs. Lalonde had raised her leg a little too high, or maybe she'd leaned back too far. Whatever the reason, when he looked up from taking off her second stocking he was confronted by the sight of her dark blonde bush, and below that, deep pink with thick, out-turned lips, her pussy. He turned away, blushing furiously and stammering "M-M-Mrs. Lalonde! Y-y-your..."

"Hmm?" She looked down and saw her immodest state, and uttered a cry of shock that was just about convincing enough. "Oh my!" She dragged down her dress. "Whatever must you think of me?"

"It's fine, really," he said, but didn't turn around.

"You must think I'm a shameless slut," she said, injecting a hint of a sexy purr into her voice.

"Huh? No, not at..." He heard the creak of bedsprings as she rose slowly, predatorily.

"A dirty, brazen harlot."

"No, no." She took a step towards him.

"A wanton whore who'll spread her legs for any man." She was behind him now. Her breasts pressed against his back. He could smell the spice of her perfume, and in her refined tones her filthy self-deprecation sounded lovely and hypnotic. The buzz from the alcohol he'd consumed faded, to be replaced by an entirely different kind of intoxication.

"John," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear, "do you want to fuck me?"

His cock was throbbing. He didn't want to fuck her. He needed to. His will collapsed. Hoarsely, he said "Yes."

"Good boy," she whispered back. John felt her pull away and turned to watch her slip her dress off her shoulders. Her breasts, huge and heavy, popped free. She pulled the dress down further, over her hips, revealing her golden-haired cleft for the second time. She laid back on the bed, leaning up on her elbows to watch him. "Clothes off," she demanded, "then get over here. John hurried to do as he was told and almost tripped over himself in his effort to get his shoes off. The rest of his clothes followed. His cock was hard, and Mrs. Lalonde's eyes followed it hungrily as he walked over to her. He crawled onto the bed and she spread her legs, expecting him to, in his eagerness, do the obvious thing, but furtive research on the internet and the odd chat with Rose that had turned to the subject of how one should treat a lady should the opportunity arise gave him different ideas. He kneeled, then kowtowed, and she felt his tongue on her pussy.

"John!" Mrs. Lalonde gasped. "Yes!" John was, in his naïvety, enthusiastically tonguing her outer lips, but she wanted to encourage him, and his licks were slowly opening her slit. He proved himself more knowledgeable than she'd thought and used his fingers to spread her. She moaned. He didn't go straight for her most sensitive bits, but kept up his rough, up and down laps, occasionally brushing her clitoris but not nearly often enough or with enough force to seriously please her. He slipped his tongue inside her and wriggled it around, alternating it with long licks like before, which brought her a couple of minutes of distraction. Soon though, her jewel was begging for his touch. She put a hand on his forehead and pushed him away.

"Sorry," he muttered, red-faced at what he presumed was his failure. "Is it no good?"

"You're doing fine, dear," she reassured him. "But you see that little bud there?"

"Oh. Your clitoris. Sorry," he said again. "I've only ever seen this done in...you know. Videos."

Mrs. Lalonde smiled. "That's nothing to be ashamed of. Just sort of suck it. Gently. And use your tongue a little." She took her hand away from John's head and let him return. He pursed his lips and sucked her clit into his mouth like it would dissolve if he was too harsh. Mrs. Lalonde groaned, flinging back her head. "Mooooore." Sucking harder, he touched his tongue to her tip. Pleasure flowed, as did her juices. She could feel her wetness trickling out of her. John did too; he gathered it up in a slow slurp and slicked it over her clit. He went back to sucking, and Mrs. Lalonde arched her back, thrusting out her breasts. She dug her fingers into the bedclothes and curled her toes. It would have been so easy for her to have just ridden John's tongue into gorgeous oblivion. That wasn't her, though. If she received, she wanted to give. She pushed John away from her again. He frowned. "No good?"

"Very good," she said, "but it's your turn now. Lie back. Let me take care of you."

John did, rolling over and sliding up alongside Mrs. Lalonde. She sat up and closed her hand around his cock. "Mmm," she murmured. "Nice and thick." She rubbed him slowly, running her thumb around the edge of his glans. A little pre-cum leaked out from the tip, and she smeared it down his shaft, making him groan. She let go and straddled him, hunkering down so that her labia brushed his prick and her tits hung over his chest. He couldn't resist fondling one, and Mrs. Lalonde gasped as his thumb flicked over her big, dark nipple. His face was flushed, mouth open in an excited semi-pant, lips wet where he'd been licking them in his nervousness and exhilaration. She bent and kissed him, and he returned the kiss clumsily, surprised by her boldness. She swore she could taste herself on him. She pulled away and asked "Do you like my boobs, then?"

"They're wonderful," John said, palming the other one. He kneaded them, squeezing his fingers deep into the soft flesh.

"Oh yessss," she hissed. "Keep doing that, while I do – haaah – this." While she spoke, she'd been carefully positioning herself. His cockhead pressed against her entrance, and she sank on to it, enveloping it in her warm wetness. She let it settle for a moment. "Like that?" John could only mewl in response. "Okay. Here we go."

John watched his cock reappear from between Mrs. Lalonde's legs as she raised herself up. Her labia clung to it, trailing à film of moisture. She paused with the edges of her hole wrapped around the very tip of his prick, then dipped down and came straight back up in one smooth motion. John groaned, shutting his eyes as her heat flowed around him. She did a couple more experimental thrusts, figuring out what felt best, and then she was away, riding John like he was wearing a saddle.

John burrowed his shoulder blades into the mattress and tried to hold on. Mrs. Lalonde was far too good. Her pussy was clenched down on his cock like a fist, and her walls were pulsing so regularly, so powerfully that he wondered if she had conscious control over them. Her hips slapped rhythmically against his, smearing her juices across his crotch. He felt hypnotized by her movements, like a snake entranced by the most charming of charmers.

For all Mrs. Lalonde was panting and moaning above him. John felt that he wasn't giving enough back. Her tits were jiggling in his hands, so he decided to start there. He rubbed them, dug his fingertips in, squeezed them together, anything to get a response out of her. Respond she did, with a hearty moan that encouraged him on. His fingers flicked over her nipples, making them stiffen and swell. She leaned forward far enough that she was almost sliding up and down him, and her breasts hung just centimetres away from his face. John's next move was obvious; he craned his neck, pulled gently on her left tit and took her nipple into his mouth, opening wide to encompass every bit of her areola. Cooing in delight, she thrust back harder while he licked, sucked and carefully nibbled her teat. He coated it in his saliva, let it go, and swapped breasts. He sucked and circled his fingers around the one he'd moistened.

Mrs. Lalonde was getting wild, screaming, yelling for more. She reared up again and John was forced to revert to his hands to tease her boobs. He noticed a pink flush in her cleavage and on her stomach that darkened each time she humped him. Her cries were getting close to ear-splitting, and he was sure that his friends would be able to hear his gasps, her screams, and the constant creaking of the bedsprings.

John's felt his climax coming upon him. He forced it back down, gritting his teeth and arching his hips up into her. His muscles quivered, but he had to hold back. He wanted Mrs. Lalonde to have her pleasure too; he didn't want to disappoint. She realised and gripped his shoulders, fucking him madly. "That's it, baby," she moaned, "just a f-fewwww – hah – just a few more-"

She screamed, sank all the way down onto his cock and closed her thighs tightly around him. Her hands dug into his shoulders and she shook, her screams dissolving into a series of rapid little squeals as she twerked her hips against him. John, his duty complete, let his orgasm take him. He felt that electric pleasure surge out from his cock, all his muscles relaxing at once. His balls contracted and liquid heat rushed from him into her. He grabbed her waist and held her down: an almost atavistic response. Breed her, ancient parts of his mind said, make her take your seed.

That desire faded fast, and he and Mrs. Lalonde lay together in a sexual stupor for a while, with his cock softening and cum leaking out of her. She reached down to her crotch and came away with a pearlescent strand of his semen drooping between her fingers, which she licked clean with apparent enjoyment. He sat up and asked,

"Should I have pulled out?"

"No, don't worry about it, sweetie," she said. "I'm on the pill."

"Good," he said. "Did you – you know?"

"Like it? You were magnificent."

Pride rose in him like a balloon, but he said, "I bet you say that to all the guys."

"If only." She looked melancholy for a moment, then perked up and said "You'd better get back to Rose's party. Your friends will be wondering where you've got to."

She gave him a box of wet wipes to clean himself off with, and helped him find his clothes. When he was dressed she handed him an empty vodka bottle and said "Have you ever played spin the bottle before?" He nodded. "When Rose talks about you, she seems a little less like her usual self. Almost...sunny, if you can credit it. You might bear that in mind."

He nodded again, dumbly, somewhat shell-shocked by the revelation. She put the bottle into his unresisting hand, patted him on the bottom and showed him to the door. "Remember what I said," she told him, and then the door was shut and he was alone in the hall again. Wondering if what he'd just done had really happened, John headed for the stairs.

When he was gone, Mrs. Lalonde stepped out of her room and went to the bathroom. She stepped into the shower and spent a few minutes making sure that she was perfectly clean, then dried up and went back to her room to wait.

When John came down the stairs, he smelled a smoky scent and heard Jade's voice.

"...so then I said, 'quit hogging the linear accelerator. It's nucleus, not nucle-you." John came in the room just in time to see Jade taking a huge drag on a huge joint as she finished up her anecdote. Rose laughed politely, while Dave merely groaned. "Oh come on, that was gold!"

"Your flute playing was better than that story," Dave said.

"Ah, John," Rose said, noticing him. "Jade was just telling us about her trip to a physics conference. You took your time finding the bathroom." She gave him an odd look. "Is that a vodka bottle? Why are you carrying that?"

"I found it outside your – err – one of the bedrooms."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Mother. She's such a slob."

"Well, I picked it up because I thought we could play spin the bottle."

Jade was greatly enthused by the idea. Rose and Dave were less so, but they were persuaded to sit down on a patch of empty carpet with the bottle in the middle.

"Whoever spins the bottle kisses whoever it points to, right?" John said. The rest agreed. He span, and they peered closely at the rotating bottleneck. It slowed, and came to rest pointing at...

"Dave! You've got to kiss Dave, John!" Jade cackled.

"Uh, maybe we should spin again."

"No! Your rules."

"I'm okay with it," Dave said.

John groaned and stood up. Dave joined him face to face, eyes inscrutable behind his shades. John puckered up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Boooo," Rose jeered.

"Use tongues!" suggested Jade.

"Do we have to?" John asked.

"I'm still okay with it." Dave stood there impassive while John screwed up his eyes then screwed up his courage. He leaned forward, opened his mouth. Dave opened his to receive him. The gap between them closed, then John's mouth was on Dave's and oh gods he was frenching another man. It didn't feel much different to kissing a girl. He could hear the girls cheering and hooting.

"That is so hot," Jade muttered to Rose.

"Very," Rose agreed.

John got carried away and put his hands on Dave's butt. Dave pulled away, mock horror on his face. "Whoah, hey," he said. "No gay stuff, Egbert." The girls collapsed into peals of manic laughter.

Sharing a grin, John and Dave sat down. Dave span the bottle. It landed on Jade, and he and she joined in a kiss that lasted for a good while longer than it strictly had to, and involved hands that weren't resisted or slapped away.

Jade span, ended up with Dave again and resumed what was essentially the same kiss. They only stopped when Rose cleared her throat and took her spin. John watched the bottle intently, willing it to land on him, but Dave, the lucky bastard, got his fourth snog, and John looked on in jealousy as she embraced him. Their kiss was businesslike: just long enough to satisfy the rules of the game. John's next spin got him Jade, and theirs was much the same.

They each span a few more times. Dave landed on Jade most of the time, and their kisses got longer and lewder with each one. Jade got John and once Rose, which John and Dave watched with great interest. Rose ended up with Dave every time. No matter how hard John wished, the bottle never ended up pointing at him, and whenever he span it never ended up pointing at Rose.

The game suffered for a lack of players, and they got bored of it after a few spins. They went back to the sofas. John sat next to Rose and Jade cuddled up to Dave. She found her unfinished spliff and sparked it up again. She took a couple of puffs, then turned to Dave and said "Hey c'mere a second. I wanna try something." She sucked in a deep lungful of smoke and held it, pressed her lips to his and exhaled. He got what she was up to, and breathed in, matching her breath for breath. He pulled away from her and blew out a thin streamer of smoke. He felt its effects spreading through him.

"Good stuff," he said.

"Another?" she asked. He nodded, and she breathed into him again.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone smoke that way," Rose said. "It doesn't look particularly pleasant, does it John?"

"Uh, no," he said, thinking that it looked as hot as hell and wishing he could do it with her.

Jade turned and grinned at them. "It feels pleasant!" she said. "Feels reeeeally pleasant." She passed the joint to Dave and laid her head in his lap.

They passed the roach between themselves while Rose and John chatted, until it had burnt down to a stub. Jade plucked it from Dave's mouth, sat up and let him give her the smoke one last time, then discarded it in an empty beer can while she slowly breathed out. She climbed into his lap and pressed her lips to his.

John and Rose found them increasingly distracted by Dave's whispers of 'you're so hot' and Jade's giggles and 'no, you's. Her hoodie ended up on the floor. His hands lifted the hem of her blouse and dipped beneath the waistband of her skirt, while she was wriggled against him a little more than she really needed to stay comfortable. They joined in a kiss that lasted so long one of them surely had to be suffocating, and when they parted Dave whispered, "I need more of you."

Rose rolled her eyes. "There is a spare bedroom upstairs. Third door on the right. Do not wake my mother. She'll probably want to join in, knowing her."

Jade giggled and said, "We won't! Thanks, Rosiekins." She stood up, hauled Dave to his feet, slapped his arse and dragged him by his arm to the stairs. He followed more than willingly.

When they were gone, John looked at Rose and said, "Well, we knew they liked each other, huh?"

"That's the thing," Rose said, pouring herself a small glass of wine. "They like each other, sure, but I don't think they like like each other."

"Oh. Then they're more-"

"Fuckbuddies," she said, and waited for him to blush. She'd noticed that her swearing never failed to make him do so, and she wondered why. No one else swearing made him, and it wasn't like he was above profanity himself.

John knew very well why. When she swore, it was almost sacrilegious. For him, it was like hearing a goddess swear. That wasn't to say he disliked it. It was exciting. Transgressive. Just another thing to love about her.

"Do you think you could do it with someone you were just friends with?"

"Oh yes. Though even that is a rather old-fashioned idea, isn't it? Have you indulged in the old one-night stand?"

“Err, no.” Technically not a lie. What had happened upstairs hadn't been a whole night. “But it must be really special when you do it with someone you like like.”

“Yes, I suppose.”

They lapsed into silence. John looked down at the coffee table. He'd put the vodka bottle there when they'd finished their game. He put his finger on its neck and idly rocked it back and forth, then tipped it onto its side. He screwed up his courage and said, "Hey, Rose." She looked up, and he caught her eye. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned the bottle to point towards her. "I like like you."

Her face was inscrutable for a moment, then her exquisitely painted lips curved in a smile. "John, I think I like like you too."

Hearts pounding, they moved towards each other,

Mrs. Lalonde heard footsteps on the stairs and moved to her door. She lurked there, all ready to pounce, but then she realised that she was hearing two sets of feet, and on top of that, someone was chattering away in a higher pitched voice than she normally associated with men. Ah. That would be Jade, then. The other would surely be Dave, John wouldn't come up here again so soon. But why would the two of them...oh. Well. That complicated things, but made them a lot more interesting, too.

She heard them stop outside her door and retreated back into the room, not wanting to be caught listening at keyholes. Jade's voice filtered through the wood, saying "Is this it?"

"No," Dave said. "Next one." Their footsteps moved away from Mrs. Lalonde's door, and the next one over clicked open.

Her room and the spare room had once been one and the same. When she'd adopted Rose, she'd decided that she needed another guest room. She had the over-large master bedroom partitioned and a new door installed in the hall. It had all come together quite well, but the dividing wall was much thinner than any other wall in the house. Sound filtered through very easily, particularly if you had the right tools. She scrambled over to her night stand, grabbed a tumbler, pressed it to the wall, stuck her ear to it and listened closely.

She was just in time to hear a thump and the door close, as though someone had kicked it shut behind them. Then Jade was giggling, followed by her admonishing Dave as he'd been the one doing it. "Shh! Don't wake Rose's mom!"

"That's gonna be tough," Dave said. There was silence for a while, then gasps for air, and Mrs. Lalonde knew they must have been kissing. There were grunts and rustlings. 

"Help me off with this," Jade said. "Hey! Hands where I can see them!"

"Oh yeah? What if don't?"

“I'll...bite 'em!" 

Mrs. Lalonde heard a clack of teeth, then Dave's voice. "Hey! Bad puppy. Don't bite the hand that's feeds you."

"Aww, puppy's sorry. Please play with puppy!"

""Well, maybe." That telling silence again, then a creak of bedsprings. "Roll over."

"Are you going to rub my belly?"

"I'll rub something better than that."

Jade's breathing turned heavy enough to hear, and she whimpered, "Ahh. Ah-Arf!"

"Good girl."

"Can puppy have her bone now?"

Dave didn't reply. Mrs. Lalonde just heard the bedsprings creak, then Jade's hissed "Yessssss!" There was a slower creak, then a faster one, and another faster and then the creaks were regular and she heard Dave grunting and Jade gasping. There was the slap of flesh on flesh, pants, moans, and Jade's little squeals. 

The creaks kept on like that for a while, then she heard Dave groan "God, you're such a hot... fucking... bitch," and they sped up. Mrs. Lalonde imagined herself under that blistering assault and her hand crept to her pussy. She rubbed herself just fast enough to arouse, slow enough not to make herself too wet. She still had designs on Dave, after all, and she wouldn't want him to think she was a pervert or something.

Jade grew ever more vocal, to the point where she would definitely have woken Mrs. Lalonde if she hadn't already been wide awake. She moaned like a porn star minus the act: genuine passion in her husky entreaties for Dave to fuck her harder, faster. Mrs. Lalonde envied her. The creaks sped up and the headboard began thudding against the wall, loud repetitive bangs echoing through the partition. Jade screamed "OH FUCK YES! THAT'S Mmmmm-" as though Dave had suddenly covered her mouth.

Mrs. Lalonde heard nothing but "mmphs" from Jade, Dave's groans and the shaking of the bed after that. It continued until Jade uttered a long "MMMMMMMMMMMMM!" It was loud even through whatever it was gagging her. There were just a few more spasmodic thumps and Dave's satisfied moan.

The bedsprings creaked into new positions. Dave and Jade were panting, Jade harder than Dave.

“You almost suffocated me!” she whined.

“You were being pretty loud, Harls.”

“Yeah. Well.” Mrs. Lalonde heard her shuffle closer to him. “So. Miss me?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you did.”

“Yeah, I did.”

They were silent for a while, then Dave said, “Wanna go again?”

“Maybe later,” Jade replied. “I'm gonna go get cleaned up.”

The bed groaned as her weight left it. The door opened sooner than she could have put on her clothes, and Mrs. Lalonde was almost tempted to rush out into the hall and catch her in the nude. She resisted, and heard the bathroom door open, then shut again. She went to her door and listened to the shower run for a few minutes, coupled with the echoes of Jade's (frankly terrible) singing. The water shut off, then moments later Mrs. Lalonde heard Jade squeal. It sounded like she'd tried the bidet and found one of its more surprising features.

Jade's footsteps echoed down the hall, then her knuckles rapped on the guest room's door. “All yours,” she called to Dave. “See you downstairs.”

“'kay,” he grunted back. Jade moved away and headed back down the corridor towards the stairs.

The door opened again. Dave's footsteps crossed over into the bathroom. He washed himself much more quickly and quietly than Jade and Mrs. Lalonde couldn't tell whether he'd finished until the bathroom door opened again.

Go time, Roxy, she told herself. Knock him dead. She'd swapped her nightdress for a bathrobe. It was less sheer, but with a couple of tugs, it became far more revealing in certain ways. She stepped out into the hallway and blinked in artful surprise at Dave.

Dave stopped dead, stunned by this sudden apparition of blonde hair and purple terrycloth. His libido, though so recently sated, started making urgent demands of him again, and he wasn't entirely sure why until he realised that said robe was open almost to Mrs. Lalonde's navel. He stared. Her cleavage stared back.

She 'recovered' first, and said, “Oh, hello Dave. How nice to see you. Are you enjoying Rose's little get-together?”

The coolkid facade slipped back on. “'Sup, Rox,” he said. “Yeah, It's pretty chill. I just came up to drain the lizard.” Not exactly true, he thought, but she was sleeping (wasn't she?), she won't know.

Not exactly true, Mrs. Lalonde thought, but I can't call you on it. She pouted instead, and said “Rox? Your other friends call me Mrs. Lalonde.” She put a hint of French accent on 'Lalonde', for classiness.

“Yeah well, I got to thinking, it doesn't really make sense, does it? You never did marry. Could call you Ms. Lalonde, I guess.”

She shuddered. “Please don't. It makes me sound like some elderly, frigid spinster.”

“Those ain't the words I'd use.”

Well. That was promising. She gave him a radiant smile and said “You can call me whatever you like, Dave dear. Particularly-” her smile widened “-if you help me out with a little problem I have in the bedroom.”

Inside her room, Mrs. Lalonde spun Dave a plausible tale. “I kicked over an empty wine bottle and the cork went behind that wardrobe there. Could you pull it out and see if you can find it? It'll bug me if I know it's there.”

“Uh, sure,” Dave said. He thought it a lot of trouble to go to just to get a cork back. But then, he was beginning to doubt that he was really here for just that.

“Thank you. I'll look under the bed for the bottle. I like to keep things neat.”

While Dave busied himself with the wardrobe, Mrs. Lalonde wriggled under the bed and made a good show of looking for the phantasmal bottle. When she crawled out and stood up her robe's neckline (quite by accident, and certainly not because she'd fiddled with her belt) plunged even further, until it could be more accurately called a chestline.

“I can't find it,” she said. “How silly of me.”

“I can't find any cork here,” Dave said. 

He turned around and copped a glorious eyeful of Mrs. Lalonde's bare bosom. The shock was debilitating, but pleasant and brief. He'd been expecting her to pull something like this, and his libido-charged hindbrain was only allowed to freewheel for a second before his higher functions re-meshed their cogs.

“Hey, Roxy,” he said.

“Hmm?” she enquired, as though she didn't know exactly where he was looking. Then, 'realisation'. “Oh! Oh my!” She made a very poor attempt at covering up. “What ever must you think of me?”

“It's fine,” Dave said, waving an airy hand.

“You must think...”

“I think you're hot.”

Mrs. Lalonde hadn't expected that. It was her turn to stare blankly, thinking of something that would preserve her role of the middle-aged vamp. Eventually she was forced to lamely say, “I... Really?”

“Yeah,” Dave said, taking a few steps closer.

“Oh,” she said, then rallied masterfully. In the darkest, smokiest, sultriest, Mae Westiest voice she could manage she said, “Well then, how would you like to fuck me?” 

With the merest hint of a tremor, Dave said “Dunno. How many ways can you think of?”

She grinned, and he started to strip, saying nothing more. He was quick, methodical and wasted no time on superfluous teasing. Soon he was naked except for his briefs, and Mrs. Lalonde took the opportunity to admire him.

He was nothing like John. John was muscular, perhaps even more so than Dave, but there was a softness to him that hid the fact. Dave didn't had an ounce of spare flesh on him. He was hard and lean, with whipcord sinews in his arms and legs and rippling ridges of muscle along his stomach. He looked fast. He looked, for want of a better word, dangerous.

Dave pulled off his underpants. He was already half erect, and quickly became fully so when Mrs. Lalonde undid her robe and let it drop over her shoulders.

“Over here,” she said. “I know what you'll like.”

She led him over to her dressing table, which had a spindly little chair in front of it. She turned the chair to the side and sat down, beckoning Dave with her little finger.

“What're we doing?” he asked.

“Stand over me,” she instructed. “That's it, just like that.”

With Dave's legs either side of hers, his crotch was just level with her chest. She took his cock, stroked it, then pressed it between her breasts and squeezed them around it.

Dave let out a noise that was half groan, half mewl. Mrs. Lalonde's tits were beautifully soft; her skin was, if not entirely like silk, then at least like some sort of satin. She was warm, too, and he imagined that he could almost feel her heart beating behind her breastbone, though that could well have been his own pulse.

She rhythmically clenched and released his prick, settling it deep between her boobs. When she was sure it was snug, she began to rub them up and down its length. Dave was less well-endowed than John, and his cock was almost lost in her cleavage, too small for what she had in mind. Eventually though, she managed to get his cockhead to pop out from between the tops of her breasts, and she could crane her neck just enough to swish her tongue over it every time it did.

Dave was finding it an effort to stand. His cock was throbbing and twitching; his balls felt hot and tight. His core muscles were so tense he could barely breathe. He was almost embarrassed at how quickly Mrs. Lalonde had overwhelmed him. He had to give in. It was that or faint.

“Rox,” he grunted, “gonna come.”

Mrs. Lalonde jerked her head back just in time to see a spray of white fountain up and splatter across her neck. She murmured softly and cradled her tits while Dave's cock squirted more splashes of pearly spunk across them. One last little dribble oozed from the tip and then he was done, left with his breath gone and his prick drooping.

Mrs. Lalonde released her breasts and let his cock flop out. “Enjoy that, baby?” she crooned.

“Yeah,” Dave gasped.

“Good boy.” She scooped up a drop of cum on her finger and sucked it clean. “Mmm.”

She stood up, pushing him back, turned around and leaned over the chair, resting her hands on its back. “Ready when you are,” she said.

I didn't take Dave at all long to regain his fire, because the position she was in gave him an excellent view of her arse. It was a thing of wonder. Ancient poets would have written bawdy verses about it. If Helen had an arse like Mrs. Lalonde's, Agamemnon and co. wouldn't have wasted any time mucking around with wooden horses. They'd have been through the gates of Troy and soundly walloping Priam's mob within the first day of the siege. Mrs. Lalonde's arse could have stopped a riot and then started it again.

Precisely none of that went through Dave's head. All he knew was that Mrs. Lalonde's butt was right there in front of him, and that she probably wouldn't object if he had a feel. He pressed close to her, nestling his slowly stiffening cock in the sticky heat between her thighs. He dug his hands into her buttocks, marvelling at how her flesh yielded to his fingers. He gave her left cheek a slap, just to see it jiggle rather than out of any sort of dominant impulse. She moaned and wriggled, urging him to do it again. He obliged, spanked both her buttocks at once and finished by gripping and pulling them apart, exposing the puckered hole between them.

Dave envisioned himself balls deep in that, He wondered if she'd let him. Did she have lube? He let his thumbs creep a little closer.

Mrs. Lalonde cleared her throat. It could have just been a cough, but he thought he heard a definite undertone of 'don't even think about it' in it. Dave relented and let go. No sense in ruining a good thing. Besides, his cock was hard again, and he had a fierce need to stick it in a tight hole right the fuck now.

Dave pulled his hips back and guided the tip of his cock to the opening of her vagina. Her labia were already swollen and parted. Her opening was dripping with her juices.”No foreplay,” Mrs. Lalonde ordered. “Just fuck me as hard as you can.”

Dave couldn't argue with that. He lined his cock up perfectly, pulled back then slammed into her, wrenching a scream from her throat. His cock ruthlessly opened her up, lighting up nerve bundles deeper and deeper inside her until he was completely hilted. As requested, he pulled out and thrust straight back in, giving her not one moment to catch her breath.

It was all Mrs. Lalonde could do to do to stay upright. Dave's thighs slapping against the backs of hers threatened to make her overbalance the chair. Dave was implacable. He was a jackhammer, a piston, an unstoppable penetrating drill. He was any piece of industrial equipment she cared to name. He rocked her with clockwork precision, and while he couldn't make her feel as blissfully stretched as John could, he more than made up for with vigour, force and passion. John made love. Dave fucked. Each approach had its merits, but Dave couldn't be beaten for making her feel like someone worth having sex with.

Clinging to the chair, Mrs. Lalonde moaned and gasped over and over again. Dave was phenomenal. At this rate, he was going to make her come sooner than she'd made him. She gritted her teeth and lost herself in the sensation of being so thoroughly well used.

When she came back, it was to find his weight on her back, his hands on her tits, and his teeth nibbling the nape of her neck. He pulled himself up a little further and whispered in her ear.

“Ready to come yet?”

“You – uuuuh – you won't get me that easily.”

“Huh.” He gripped and twisted her nipples. “Did you come before?”

“Before?”

“When you were listenin' to me fuck Jade.”

“I – Dave!” she spluttered. She almost added 'how dare you!', but that would have been a hypocrisy too far.

“You weren't asleep. You couldn't have been, the noise she was making.”

“I was!” Dave slowed his thrusts. “Okay, fine I wasn't.”

“Thought so. Were you touching yourself?”

“Yessss!”

Dave fucked Mrs. Lalonde in silence (or at least without words) for a while. She was glad he couldn't see her face. Then she looked to the left and saw her blushing cheeks clearly visible in the mirror. He was looking the same way, and his reflection's lips were curled in a smug smile.

“So,” he said, his voice even lower, “did you come before?”

“No, I swear.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“This!” Her reply came out as an embarrassing near-shriek. She was utterly out of control. Dave had penetrated her thoughts as deeply and easily as he had her pussy.

“Know something else?” he said. “I didn't wash up after Jade. “How's it feel to get fucked with another girl on my dick?”

Shameful. Filthy. Sluttish.

Hot.

The thought was obliterated as soon as it emerged. Mrs. Lalonde's walls clamped down on Dave's cock and she shook as her climax roiled out from the depths of her being. Dave was thrusting into her so fast he was barely pulling out, little staccato movements until he too moaned in release. She felt him press as deep into her as he could go, felt his seed fill her, felt his hands squeeze her breasts left little crescent bruises and she hissed in delighted agony.

Her pleasure passed through her and was gone, though the satisfaction remained. Dave pulled out of her and she turned to face him. She slumped into her chair, taking the weight off her weary, trembling legs.

Mrs. Lalonde looked up at Dave. Most unfairly, he seemed almost entirely unruffled, with barely a hair out of place or a bead of sweat on his brow. She must have looked like something that had been dragged backwards through a hedge. For one thing, there was already a pool of her juices and his cum forming under her lap.

“Good?” Dave asked, knowing the answer.

“Magnificent,” she gasped. “Any time you want me, I'm yours.”

“Might just take you up on that,” he said. 

“Please do.”

He went over to where he'd dropped his clothes and began putting them on.

“I gotta be getting back,” he said by way of explanation.

“Of course,” she said. “We don't want your friends wondering.”

Dressed, Dave came back and kissed her. “I meant what I said. I'll call you. You can come to one of my shows.”

She blushed a little. “As a groupie.”

“As a VIP.”

“Dave, you really are very gallant.”

“Hey,” he said. “I'm a knight. See you around, Roxy.” As swift as he ever was, he left the room and shut the door behind him.”

Mrs. Lalonde luxuriated in her conquest for a few minutes, replaying the delicious sensations Dave had given her. Then, she stood, cleaned off the seat with handwipes and went to the bathroom to take what she imagined would be her last shower before bed.

The first thing Jade had seen when she'd come down the stairs was a plate of brownies with her name on it. The second thing she'd seen was John and Rose sitting in the same armchair. At first she thought they were merely canoodling, then she saw that Rose's dress was bunched up around her waist, and that John's pants and boxers were wrapped around his ankles. She had her legs crossed behind him, and her hands were gripping his shoulders while she ground her hips against his crotch. He was massaging her breasts and leaning in to kiss the hollow of her neck. Both of them were panting heavily and making pleasured little moans and whimpers.

Jade had watched for a moment. Then, with the utmost delicacy, she'd cleared her throat and turned her back to them.

Rose yelped and almost fell backwards off the chair, saved at the last moment by John grabbing her. She leapt off him and worked furiously to get her panties back in place and her dress unrumpled. John yanked his bottoms back up and muttered imprecations against Dave's stamina. He zipped up his fly, at which point Jade took the opportunity to come out from behind the bannisters.

As though she wasn't as red as tomato and didn't have her dress hanging off her shoulder, Rose said “Jade! We were just wondering when you'd come down! Did you find your way upstairs alright?”

Jade assured her that she had and sat down to eat the brownies and make somewhat stilted small talk with her and John.

It was quite obvious that they'd have preferred to be alone together. They kept casting lingering glances over each other. John could seem to sit comfortably, and Rose was moistening her lips more than was strictly necessary. It was a relief when Dave came down and seated himself next to Jade. They left her in in his company and hurried off to Rose's room.

Dave and Jade passed the time by sharing another joint, drinking another beer each and speculating on what John and Rose were up to.

“I bet she likes it in the butt,” Jade opined.

“Rose? Nah. But she'll make him eat her out 'til his tongue's sore.”

“Nooo, she's an ass woman.”

“Her mom wasn't.”

Jade inhaled a mouthful of beer and coughed so much her glasses fell off and under the coffee table. She spent a minute choking and having her back slapped by Dave. Once she'd recovered and retrieved her glasses, she spluttered “Her mom! You mean you...?”

“Yup.”

“After we...?”

“Yup.”

“You dog!”

“No, that's you.”

Jade mused silently for a while, then said “That explains why you took so long up there. Hey, do you think that was why John did too?”

“I guess it could be,” Dave concurred.

“But now he's with Rose.” She tapped her beer can thoughtfully. “We better keep quiet. John can tell her if he thinks he should.”

“Reckon you're right. 'sides, I don't think 'hey Rose, I fucked your mom too' would go down so well.”

Jade giggled. “You're lucky it went down well with me. I don't like being left out.”

“You wanted in?” Dave was mildly surprised. “I don't think Roxy's into girls. Didn't think you were either.”

“I can be. And I can make her be, too.”

“No way.”

“Uhuh.”

“Then I want a video to prove it.”

She punched him in the shoulder and swigged the rest of her beer.

John and Rose came back, looking much the better for having left. They talked freely and were far less distracted, though Rose's hair was bedraggled and John had dark red tooth marks on the side of his neck. The party got back into its swing and the four of them chatted, laughed and shared more food and drink.

After a while, and with a sly wink to Dave, Jade excused herself and headed up the stairs.

Mrs. Lalonde was in bed with a book and half a glass of wine when she heard the rap on her door. She frowned, put down her glass and her book and slipped out from under the covers, pulling her nightdress down to her knees for warmth. This particular piece of sleepwear was nowhere near as sexy as anything else she'd worn that night. It was a faded blue and slightly worn around the edges, but it was warm, comfortable and made for sleep rather than seduction. Confections of lace and silk were all very well for snaring your daughter's friends, but you had to put them to one side when you were done – both the boys and the clothes.

There came the tap on the door again. Mrs. Lalonde strode over to it and pulled it open, intending to give the knocker a polite but firm dismissal. Light flooded in and she looked out onto an empty hallway. She poked her head out and looked up and down. Not a soul in sight. She shrugged and turned to withdraw.

Someone grabbed her from behind, wrapped their arms around her and said in a slurred voice “Hi, m'ssus Lalonde!”

Mrs. Lalonde wriggled against her captor's grasp, which encompassed rather more of her bust than she was comfortable with. “Jade?” she queried.

“Yup! I thought I'd come and see you before you went to sleep.”

“How nice. Could -”

\- you take your hands off my boobs was what she didn't get to say, because Jade chattered on. “And Dave and John got to see you, so I thought I'd better come up and say thanks for letting us stay.”

“Wait, you know those two saw me? Could you -”

“Uh-huh. And you didn't just see Dave, did you?”

Blast that blabbermouth! Mrs. Lalonde would have much preferred her trysts to have stayed secret, if only to spare Rose any embarrassment.

Jade felt her stiffen. “Don't worry,” she said soothingly. “He only told me.”

“And you don't mind. You two are...?”

“Friends with benefits. And I guess you heard us benefiting?”

There seemed no point in lying. “Yes. Sorry dear, but you were awfully noisy.”

“That's okay. I like being overheard. You fucked John too, didn't you?”

“What!” Mrs. Lalonde yelped. “How did you find that out? Does Rose know?”

“No, it's okay. Me and Dave just guessed.”

Mrs. Lalonde heaved a sigh of relief.

“Did you know she and John got together?” Jade said.

“No. I feel rather guilty now.”

“Don't be. I think you gave him the push he needed.”

“Oh. Well good. So.”

“So.”

Mrs. Lalonde shifted uncomfortably. It felt like Jade was squeezing her boobs more tightly then when they'd started talking.

“Jade,” she said. “I don't mind being hugged, but do you think you could lower your hands.”

“Aww. But you've got nice boobies.”

Mrs. Lalonde was flattered, but pressed on. “Yes. I didn't say you could touch them, though.”

“You let the boys touch them.”

“Yes, but-”

Jade wound her leg around Mrs. Lalonde's, pressing close to her. “And you let them fuck you,” she breathed. “Mrs. Lalonde, do you want to fuck me?”

“Ah, that's what you want? Um.” Mrs. Lalonde hadn't even expected Jade to be interested in her. The boys were her prey. But if the offer was there, why not go for the trifecta?

“Why not?” she said. She broke free of Jade's grasp, took hold of her and dragged her into her room.

Another minute saw them stripped to their skins, in bed, and kissing as though they'd been lovers for years. They lay on their sides, legs twined together, and arms clasped around each others' backs. Mrs. Lalonde could feel the hard points of Jade's nipples poking her breasts. Below, Jade was slithering her hand down between their stomachs, down to where their skin got damper and hotter the further she went, down to where she could part Mrs. Lalonde's flesh and expose and infiltrate her most secret of secret places.

Mrs. Lalonde only got to groan under Jade's probing fingers for a few moments before Jade pulled them out and sucked them clean. She broke away, wriggled down the length of Mrs. Lalonde's body and rolled her over onto her front, then encouraged her up onto her hands and knees. In this new position, Mrs. Lalonde's pussy glistened invitingly, puffy and spread. Jade wasted no time in diving in and lapping at every spot she could reach. The way she had to angle her head to get her mouth in place meant her neck soon tired, so she wriggled underneath Mrs. Lalonde and pulled her haunches down to her face. Muffled giggles escaped her. Mrs. Lalonde's muff was tickling her chin.

Mrs. Lalonde got what Jade was going for and bent her head to Jade's loins. They sixty-nined for a while, engaging in a tacit contest of who could make the other squeal the most, then Mrs. Lalonde discovered what kind of a partner Jade was.

If John made love, and Dave fucked, then Jade... experimented. She couldn't be content with just one thing repeated until orgasm. She craved variety and she made sure Mrs. Lalonde knew it. She squirmed out from under Mrs. Lalonde with a suddenness that knocked her onto her side. Before she could make any move Jade grabbed hold of her leg, lifted it and slotted herself between Mrs. Lalonde's thighs.

Their pussies met. Their labia entwined like they were kissing, tongueless but far from chaste, then for a moment they parted. Sticky strands connected them before Jade wriggled in closer and began to grind.

Jade's movements were fluid and powerful, and rhythmic enough that Mrs. Lalonde found herself mirroring them without even thinking about it. She twisted her upper body to give herself a better purchase on the bed and thrust back. Her lips slipped over and squished against Jade's; their juices and their heat flowed together and became one. Their moans were endless, punctuated with the odd squeal whenever one of their clits ended up in just the right spot.

“Ohhh, Jade,” Mrs. Lalonde groaned. “You've done this before.”

“I hah-haven't,” Jade replied, shifting her grip on Mrs. Lalonde's thigh to get more traction. “I'm just trying really hard.”

“Mmm, and succeeding. Perhaps you'll enjoy the benefit of experience, though.”

“Uh?”

Mrs. Lalonde disentangled herself from Jade and rolled her onto her back. She crouched over Jade and laced her fingers with her own, pinning her hands to her mattress. “I have done this before,” she said. “I was younger then, but I remember a few tricks. You just stay still, now, and let me-” she lowered herself so that her pussy touched Jade's “-take care of you.”

Mrs. Lalonde began to grind and Jade began to moan. She dug her shoulders into the mattress, her hair spilling out behind her. She clung to the bedclothes and held on tight, both to the sheets and her composure. Mrs. Lalonde was pressing her advantage to the full, and Jade wanted to let her pleasure fill her to the very brim before she let herself go.

Jade might have started their little tryst, but Mrs. Lalonde was damn well going to finish it. Age's experience would have its victory over youth's allure. She rocked Jade like a storm-tossed ship: the bed their sea, her tongue a rolling wave, her kisses sudden thunder-claps, the warmth of her body a coruscating corona of phantom fire. Their pussies parted and met again with wet slaps. Sticky rivulets of juice drooled from them, rolling down their legs, dotting their pubes with dewy droplets and soaking the sheets beneath them. Their clits bumped and slipped over one another. They were engorged, throbbing, almost intolerably sensitive, and both women screamed out loud when they rubbed together.

Still Jade held fast, and gave back as good as she got. Every demand Mrs. Lalonde made of her she met. When her partner thrust, she thrust back. When they ground, she clove to her twice as hard. Holding her pleasure in check was an ordeal of the finest kind. She quivered, tense and desperate to come, but she would not, could not be beaten. She gripped Mrs. Lalonde's back and scored deep red nail marks down her pale skin. Mrs. Lalonde hissed and arched, digging Jade's nails in even deeper.

Mrs. Lalonde knew she couldn't win. Jade was too tenacious and her moment of oblivion was almost upon her. So she surrendered gracefully. She let her orgasm flow up from her loins, let it fill her stomach and bubble like a vapour into her lungs, where she breathed it out in a shuddering moan. She experienced it as the gift it was. She savoured it, but didn't let it control her. While it skittered around her nerves, she ducked down to Jade's loins and used tongue and lips and fingers to plunge her, body and soul, beneath the roiling waves and into a place that was soft, pink and full of bliss.

When she surfaced, Mrs. Lalonde was lying next to her, smiling and stroking her hair.

“Enjoy that, sweetie?” Mrs. Lalonde asked.

“Yeah,” Jade sighed. “Can we go again?”

“Another time. You should get back to your friends before they become concerned.”

Jade ignored Mrs. Lalonde's suggestion and reached over to squeeze her breasts. “I love your boobs.”

“I don't see why you're so interested in these saggy old things,” Mrs. Lalonde said. She dragged a thumb over Jade's nipple, making her shiver. “Yours are so much perkier.”

“But yours are waaay bigger.” Jade flopped over and cuddled up to Mrs. Lalonde. “I like being with you.”

"I like being with you too. You and your friends. You're welcome here any time you like, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. But now I really do think you should rejoin my dear Rose's party. It's rude to abandon your host."

"More or less rude than fucking her guests?"

"More." Mrs. Lalonde gave Jade's bottom a slap, prompting a yelp. "Now, up."

"Okay, okay, I'm upping!"

Jade scrambled out of bed and dressed. Mrs. Lalonde caught her by the door and gave her a long, deep kiss.

"Just to let you know I wasn't just having fun with you and kicking you out," she said.

"I thought I was the one having fun with you, Mrs. Lalonde," Jade said.

"I'm sure you were. You must come back and have it again soon."

"I will. Promise."

Jade stepped out into the hallway. Mrs. Lalonde closed the door behind her. She was suddenly bone-weary, and stumbled back over to her bed. With a sigh of mixed satisfaction and relief, she crashed into it and pulled the duvet over herself, where she sank into a deep and happy sleep.

When Jade came down the stairs Rose – continent, prim, self-controlled Rose – was red-faced from booze, red-eyed from weed and laughing so hard that she segued into a coughing fit and had to be slapped on the back by John.

"Jade, Jade, ohmigod Jade!" she spluttered. "Dave was singing us one of his band's songs! Sing it for Jade, Dave!"

"It's not that funny," he said.

"Sing iiiiiit!"

Monotone, Dave sang: "Squirming in my flesh, these cuts they don't..."

"PFFFFFHAHAHAAAHA oh Gods, water. No, wait." Rose snatched up a smouldering roach and took a deep drag on it. "Okay, I'm good." She waved a hand in front of her face. "Whoa. I feel high. Am I high?"

"Yes," John agreed.

"You should be," Jade said.

"Drunk too," Dave concluded. "So what do you think of my fresh lyrics, Harley?"

Jade sat next to him and assured him that his fresh lyrics were very nice, and that they made her want to kiss him and soothe his tormented artist's soul. "By the way," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. "Mission accomplished." They discretely bumped fists when John and Rose weren't looking.

The party ebbed and flowed, then began to fade. Jade fell asleep with her head in Dave's lap, then John did the same on Rose's shoulder. Rose and Dave chatted quietly for a while, until she realised that she'd been talking to herself for five minutes and that Dave's eyes were shut behind his shades. Rose smiled vaguely. "Great party, you guyshhzzzz." Her head slumped and she slipped into slumber.

She awoke next morning with eyeballs like pickled onions and a tongue that had apparently, against all biological good sense, grown hair. She opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. A million searing hot needles worked their way up her optic nerve and into her brain. She squinched her eyes tight shut and tried opening them again, this time looking away from the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

She took stock. The wreckage of her party littered the coffee table and the floor around it. That would be fun to clean up. Her friends were still asleep, blissfully unaware of the hangovers no doubt brewing in their skulls. And she was tangled up in John's arms and legs. She smiled despite her headache. She couldn't quite remember it clearly, but she knew that among the drunkenness and debauchery had been love and tenderness. She and John would have to try it again sometime, when there was less chemical temptation in the way.

Groaning, Rose extricated herself from John and managed to find her legs after a couple of tries. She stood, weaving, and tottered into the kitchen.

The last thing she needed to see was her mother there. The last thing she needed to hear was her mother fixing her morning Bloody Mary. Beelzebub himself couldn't have invented an implement of torture more agonising than the sound of the blender macerating tomatoes. Rose sank into a chair and clutched her head until the noise stopped.

Mrs. Lalonde strained the tomato juice. She tipped a measure of vodka into a glass, added the juice to it and splashed in a dash of Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce. She garnished it with a stick of celery, stirred and took a sip with every sign of being pleased with her work. She turned and saw her beloved daughter sitting at the table with her head in her hands and looking like death warmed up.

“Oh, good morning, dearest,” she said.

“M'rn, m'th'r,” the beloved daughter replied.

Mrs. Lalonde sat down beside her and sipped at her cocktail. “Did you have a nice time last night?”

“'s.”

“That's good. Feeling the after-effects?”

“'s.”

“Poor dear. Would you care for one of these?”

“N – y's.”

Mrs. Lalonde smiled. “Wait right there.” She got up, whipped up a fresh drink and put it under Rose's heavy head. Rose, fading fast, made a heroic effort to grip the glass and swallow a mouthful of boozy tomato juice. She winced, but took another swig.

“Feeling better?” Mrs. Lalonde asked, when half the glass was empty.

“I think so,” Rose said.

“Hair of the dog. It never fails. Now tell me all about the party.”

There wasn't much to tell, particularly with the gaps in Rose's memory. She did recall each of her friends taking a long time to find their way upstairs. Mrs. Lalonde was a bit too quick to assume that they'd gotten lost. Rose looked at her suspiciously.

“You didn't do anything last night, did you, mother?” she asked.

“Me? No, not at all,” Mrs. Lalonde said, with all the guile of a kitten sitting among the shattered remains of a milk jug. “I got laid – I mean, I laid in bed all night.”

Rose stared at her for a moment more and then, still far too woozy to pursue any line of investigation very far, shrugged and turned back to her drink. Mrs. Lalonde did the same. Presently, she finished, stood and gave Rose an affectionate hug and kiss.

“Do invite your friends over more often,” she said. “A woman should have companionship in her life, don't you think?”

With that she departed, leaving a rather confused Rose to sip her cocktail and ponder whether any amount of companionship was worth the hangover. She supposed she could have a dry party, but somehow it just wouldn't have felt right.

“Face it, Lalonde,” she told herself as she drained the last of her drink, “you have far too much in common with her.”

Out in the living room, Mrs Lalonde passed by a stirring John. She gave him a cheery good morning and a cheeky wink, then continued on her way. Yes, a woman certainly should have companionship. The more, the better.

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to my proofreader, the requester and everyone who read this. Follow me at geistygeist.tumblr.com


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